Confessions of a Trickster
by Small J
Summary: Loki has had a tough life, hasn't he? This is a collection of moments as told by his own hand in his memoirs. Rating by chapter, short drabbles, genres by chapter.
1. Colors

**Chapter Rating:** K (G)

**Summary:** Loki wasn't always bad. He just wanted to have fun. His brother loved him, so it was okay, right? Thor?

**Notes:** Little bit of angst, nothing to bad.

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**I Just Wanted To Color**

I wouldn't define myself as crazy. I don't wake up every morning wondering who I could torment. Well, I didn't used to.

In fact, I was a normal boy growing up. I got into fights, not that I instigated, of course. Mother nursed my wounds and tended to my pride. My brother made the situation worse but, then, he did try to protect me from the worst of it. That was what a big brother was for. If a big brother was supposed to protect their siblings, then the young had to take full advantage and hassle their older brother.

So, I would often play little tricks on him. If Thor's friends were hit in the crossfire, I could not be blamed. If they would unglue themselves from their Prince's side, they would be targeted less.

I so loved to make my brothers things vanish. I would vanish his drink during meals; sometimes, straight from his hand. Thor would laugh and, on occasion, scold me for wasting a good drink while his friends would often glare and mumble. I reveled in turning hot food cold, changing Thor's cape from red to green, or even creating mini leaf tornadoes on the training field.

Thor enjoyed the occasional trick.

The rest of the world, did not.

I don't know when it happened, but it did. I began to hear the whispers in the halls. I could ignore them for the most part. Thor had said the tricks were harmless pranks. He had even tried to get me on occasion—not that he was very good at it.

It was such a nice day, too. the sun was out and I had decided to go tot he lake. Mother had given me a drawing set, you see. She loved the lake and I wanted to desperately to draw something for her. I sat at that lake for hours just trying to match the prefect shade of blue. I chose to ignore the voices drawing near. It was Thor and his friends, after all. What harm could come of that?

"He meant no offense, Sif," laughed Thor, voice showing signs of turning. He would have a booming voice if fate had anything to say about it. "He was trying to hit me with paint. You happened to walk through the door first!"

I couldn't help but smile and snort a little under my breath. I was proud of that one. Lady Sif's hair was pink for days. I really had aimed for Thor. I just didn't expect any gentlemanly 'ladies first' behavior from him, was all.

"Thor, he is a menace. How do you put up with him all the time?"

I frowned, pausing from my attempt to smudge blue and green on the canvas.

"Ai, he can be a bit much but he is a late bloomer. He will grow up eventually and find other pursuits then tricks and magic."

Me grow up? This was my brother, the oaf. The child who plays the hero. I had to have heard incorrectly. He was my shield, he could not mean such things.

Hogan spoke next, his voice soft and, all at once, commanding. He spoke little, but meant every word.

"I do not think the prince would appreciate how you speak of him. His magic may be childish, however he is far more mature then you give him credit."

The oil pencil snapped then. They had steadily gown louder as they walked to the lake. They continued to debate my skills, maturity, lack of fighting skills and insulted my love of the written word. None, unfortunately, more adamantly then my brother.

He had always supported me. He was calm and understanding with training. Often, he would stay longer to help me with foot work or hold. He made me show him every new spell I learned, every new story I read or speech memorized. Never had he been anything less then supportive.

Here, though. Here, the truth was out. He spoke freely of wasted time after training, of silly spells and useless stories. My brother complained about every aspect of who I was and wanted to be and here, in the silence and echoing of the sacred wood, i had been privy to it all.

As they stumbled, laughing into the clearing, I threw my supplies and unfinished painting into the crystal water and, forcing a smile, faced them all.

"Brother!" he had boomed, "How long have you been here? You seem red. Staying out of the library seems to suit your skin ill."

"I have only just arrived. I thought to go for a walk. If you would excuse me, then, I shall be out of your way."

I patted his broadening shoulder and smile as he nodded and ruffled my hair a bit.

As tears stung my eyes, I knew I had just started a new phase in my life.

It was the first time I had ever lied. I only wish it could have been the last.


	2. Eyes

**Chapter Title:** Eyes On Me (Part 1)

**Chapter Rating**: K (G)

**Chapter Summary:** Thor does appreciate Loki and his magic. But when did he truly start? Sometimes, Loki would trade all the ill words to have Thor hate it again.

**Notes:** Part one of...two? Nothing bad this chapter but the next one might have a jump in rating. I don't have a Beta so...all mistakes are my own. I try to catch them all but a person sees what they want to see when they are the one writing. I know what I was saying so my eye sees the correct spelling or word even if it is wrong. Any suggestions are welcome. If you want to know anything about Loki just ask. My review box is open to anonymous and guest review so don't hesitate if you want to see anything.

EDIT: So sorry if I tricked anyone! I uploaded it and then realized a REALLY glaring mistake and had to fix it-by deleting the chapter and uploading the correct one. Happy reading?

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**Eyes On Me (Part 1)**

Dear Diary,

I hate everything. Including you.

That would be how I started to write after my discovery of Thor's secret disdain for me. Perhaps disdain is a harsh word for it. He loved me, still does—the fool. He did show honest appreciation for my magic, though, many years later. He would, of course, as it was used to save his friend. Not that my little act of selflessness earned me any favor with the band of idiots. As always, they blamed me for the trouble in the first place.

Once more—it was all Thor's doing.

He wanted to hunt in the forest. Normally, it is not a challenge. Like the buffoon he is, however, he had piss poor timing in the time of day, the amount of time walking and, of course, mating season.

I had warned him as I normally do. He was starting the journey late in the day as well as forgetting mating season for some of the more dangerous creatures having passed long enough for them to have given birth. For those who don't know, it means a fair amount of over protective mothers with sharp fangs and deep set hunger.

I could have let him be. It would be his own fault.

Somewhere, though, somewhere in my withering heart I loved him. He had hurt me, yes, but he was my brother. I felt that he didn't mean to hurt me as he did. To face reality, the idiot didn't know he had even done so! Sighing, I packed a bag and, much to his friends' dismay, joined them at the edge of the forest.

The light faded as we entered. The sun was to set in a few short hours and the wood was already heavy with shadow. The leaves rustled softly in the gentle breeze, casting darkness along the dark ground. Flowers pushed up along the base of trees and shadowed shrubs. The dark wood was kind to those that knew how to treat her. She had a wicked protective streak and, like any woman, became unforgivable when men entered the room looking for trouble.

Small animals scuttled around the ground and above our heads as we stalked the trees, no clear path in sight. Thor talked softly with his friends as I lagged behind, eyes darting to every movement or sound.

While I had hoped Thor would find something to kill and turn back early, I had not asked the fates to nearly kills us in return.

As it was, we came across a strange creature. I hadn't much read about the darker creatures in the wood so I didn't know, exactly, what it was. It was nearly the size of Thor and twice as wide. The dark gray fur clung tight to its body, unaffected by the slight breeze. It stood on four, very clawed, legs though by the angle it could easily stand on two. The most bazaar, from my own point of view, happened to be the razor sharp teeth in its long muzzle. Of course, the six inch, pointed horns jutting out from it's temples to gleam in the fading light took a close second.

A hush fell over us as we watched the creature, still unnoticed. It was then that I discovered the worst possible thing about the whole situation.

There was a smaller creature just like it sniffing around it's feet.

We held still, trying to contain our breathing. Thor grinned, from what I could see, as he slowly turned his head to face me. I shook my own, just as slowly. He frowned and I shook a little more vigorously, eyes beginning to widen. He took a moment to gaze at his friends and, as they all slowly shook their heads, he nodded. We all began to shuffle back while the creature was occupied with sifting through the fallen leaves.

I branch snapped and all eyes swung to face me. My breath caught in my throat as my eyes slid to my boots. There, sticking out from either side of the hard leather sole, was a rather sturdy twig Hel-bent on seeing my death.

Perhaps the branch was upset with me. I had made such efforts to avoid making any sound, though I had stepped on a fair many branches in past visits to the forest. Maybe it was jealous not to feel the sturdy strength under my boot; maybe the branch was simply gaining revenge for fallen comrades. I fleetingly wondered if I had stepped on the damned things mother. I don't think I would deal to kindly to the soul that stepped on my mother.

Of course, it was but a moment of absolute lunacy that passed thorough my mind as my life passed before my eyes.

In that fleeting second, I glanced back up to see the creature stare straight into my eyes. She had such beautiful eyes. They were deep and cold; gold as the halls of Odin and just has angry. Something there, though, kept me rooted to the ground. They were old eyes, like staring into the eyes of the gatekeeper. She knew hardship and pain. This creature, whatever it was, simply wished to live and be left to it.

She did not move. She did not make a sound, simply watched us. I gazed into those beautiful depths and took another step back. She didn't move. Maybe it was my own racing mind playing tricks, but I could swear on my favorite book that her shoulders relaxed. She looked less hunched. If she could leave me be, then I was happy to afford the same courtesy.

and then Thor let out a thunderous bellow and charged.


	3. Unfair

**Chapter Title:** Eyes On Me (Part 2)

**Chapter Rating**: K+ (just a little blood and...slight maiming?)

**Summary:** Part two of Eyes On Me. Will the group kill the creature and how does Loki feel about it?

**Notes:** A bit more angst, just for good measure. Loki talks a little about his emotions and how is actions might have been guided. Is this the real turning point for Loki?

As always, I have no beta and, as always, I am typing between the hours of past midnight and crack of dawn. Comments and suggestions are welcome. If you point out a typo, I will add it to the master list. After I get a few more chapters I will go through and correct the past chapters.

**Thanks:** Big thank you to** Madame Jinxie** for helping catch my typos and reviewing. I hope I can put in some really happy chapters for you later on! I like Happy Loki, too.

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**Eyes On Me (Part 2)**

It had happened so fast.

It seemed only a second that I stared into the endless light of her eyes and, in the same instant, Thor had charges, ax high, as his friends followed.

She, whatever she was, let out a roaring growl as she faced them all. She, a possible weakened mother, against a band of five healthy and armed youths.

She didn't have a chance, not alone.

But she had me and I, unlike that blond, unthinking fool, couldn't slaughter a mother. She was seeking food for you child. Mayhap she was waiting for the return of her mate, or had moved to another part of the wood for better shelter. In any case, I could not stand and allow her to be killed when it was clear to me she had meant no harm to us.

Hogun grunted lightly under his breath as he avoided a swipe from a sharpened claw. The creature stood on her hind legs—as I had figured—and began to dodge, bite, snap, and swipe at anything that came to close.

Volstagg worked with Sif to keep the creature focused on them. Fandral, taking the opportunity, flanked her to her unprotected side, ready to strike.

I can not say what, exactly caused me to do it.

Grasping one of my many knives, I blindly threw into the fray. Fandral was forced to jump back as the slim blade cut deep into the tree.

The creature, the mother, took notice of him quickly and, to my complete horror, managed to catch him across the chest. He was thrown back, miraculously caught by the swift Hogun.

Thor roared forward, swinging blindly, managing to catch the poor creature in the shoulder before he, too, was knocked aside. It was sheer luck that he had been struck with the back of her paw. The small axe jutted out from bone and flesh, bleeding slowly around the stuck head.

Sif, spear gripped in her steady hands, stood her ground as the creature advanced.

Could she feel nothing? Surely she was not so much a warrior that she forgot her own womanhood? Felt she no pain as the thought of stripping a mother from her child? Had she no mind of her own that she would blindly follow her friends lead for an effort to prove her own worth?

and then, the creature glance to me; her feral growl low as her maw dripped with saliva.

Those eyes drew me once more as nothing else had. Time had stopped and even the angry shouts of Volstagg for Thor to help with Fandral or the charging scream of Sif faded into nothing.

There was anger there, yes. Pain beyond measure, truly, but sadness. Deep, empty sadness.

Resignation. She knew. She knew she was to die for nothing but sport. She knew her child would die, hungry and alone in the wood.

I waved by hand, low to the ground and, with sudden clarity, saw the good lady Sif slip. With a loud grunt of pain, she landed in a heap on her back, spear escaping elsewhere.

And the creature darted away, pausing only long enough to grab her child.

I shuddered, breath shaking as air became apparent in my lungs. When I had begun to hold my breath, I shall never know. I only knew the burning in my chest, the sting in my eyes and the almost imperceptible layer of frost melting on the leafy ground.

Turning, I noticed Thor likewise on his back, wet leaves clutching to his wild locks.

"It got away!" he thundered, righting himself.

I hissed, voice seething more then I can remember it having ever been at that age.

"Brother! Your friend is wounded. May it not be fatal for I would be unable to help!"

I felt guilty, then. I felt a small little guilt for Fandral's wound; I felt guilt for crippling the creature. Surely, if I had been more cautions of my own steps she would not have noticed us and Thor would not have sought reason to attack.

Kneeling beside the swordsman, I carefully peeled away the layers to his chest. His clothing was thick enough to take most of the damage. What was left, though, was four long streaks; the deep gouges dripped blood steadily as Fandral began to nod off.

I sent Thor after my bag for a stone. I had enchanted it previously and tested it many times with our healers. I was glad I had decided to learn healing spells. With careful movements, I removed the stone from the cloth bag. Inside was a small vial of liquid that I slowly poured into the wounds. Fandral hissed lowly, fevered head turning as he grimaced in sluggish pain. Holding the stone in one hand, I grasped my wrist with the other, holding the stone steady a hairs breath from the seeping gouges.

It was all I could do to block out Thor's rapid and concerned questions and Sif's screaming to be quite. I vaguely recall Volstagg demanding to know if I knew what I was doing at all.

I muttered incantations under my breath, not because they were necessary to speak, but to drown out their own irritating voices. My hands felt warm but, at some point, I had let my eyes droop shut so I knew not how bright the light shone from my hands. It was only when the heat dissipated that I allowed by lids to open and inspect Fandral. Long scars stretched his chest among dried blood and tattered cloth.

None spoke as we left the clearing. The light was gone when we pulled ourselves home again, mother frantic with worry and righteous anger.

They had boasted the next day at every meal. How big the creature was, how dangerous, how I had thrown only a single blade which, of course, nearly killed Fandral. They did not mention the baby creature. Of course, they hadn't see the emotions run through the creatures eyes. They saw death and chaos; I saw a lonely animal desperate to live.

Thor boasted highly of my skill as a healer. Fandral going so far as to show his scars. Some scoffed; if I was so talented, why then were there scars?

I had looked into my brothers eyes as his compliments rained from his lips. It was true and honest. He truly admired my skills. No longer were they simply tricks to be grown out of. My magic was useful; I was useful.

I did have to wonder, however, why I chose a frost spell to trip him and Sif. Of all the spells, why frost when I hadn't remembered memorizing any? I could have moistened the ground, shifted the leaves or even conjured a bug to sting Sif's nose. I would have liked to sting her nose, if only out of spite for her insulting my own.

Magic, you see, knows everything. It flows through all matter in existence. It touches the very core of your very being. I may not have known what I was then. No, I would find out for many, many years. My magic knew, though. Somewhere in the heart I tried to shield, my magic touched the frost in my blood.

Maybe that was why I couldn't bring myself to kill that creature. That baby, that small fuzzy thing crawling along the ground would be abandoned to a pointless war. It would be left to starve or die at the hands of a creature far worse.

I wonder, not for the first time, if they had even seen the small creature. I was, by far, more observant. It was so small; a simply puff of gray fur among the shadows. Could I honestly blame Thor? Would he have attacked had he seen what I did? To this day, despite my own blinding rage at many of his actions, I do not think he would have.

Perhaps some of that sentiment of youth still clings to us both.

I tried to forget about the day, wanted nothing but to erase the penetrating gold eyes. I threw myself into my books once more. I learned spell after spell, going so far as to stop all pranks. The palace seemed to be glad for it; Thor thought me ill and constantly pestered mother about it.

The creature was rare, I discovered. I had found books with their picture in them. They belonged to the far east, which accounted for the thin coat. The weather was often hot in the east, yet it rained often; if lightly. Her coat was most likely tight to her body to allow the water to simply run off like on bird feathers.

After weeks of study and meals in my room, I allowed Thor to drag me out to dine with him in the hall. When we arrived, soldiers had crowded around a long table, cheering and yelling praise. My brother, not to be left out, pulled us through the tight nit crowd to see what the excitement was.

It was one of the gray creatures. It's jaw hung open, tongue lolled out as its sightless gold eyes glazed over with death. I clenched my jaw as my stomach turned. As it was lifted off the table, to be skinned no doubt, its shoulder turned.

There was a long patch of fur less skin broken only by a poorly healed scar. The skin jutted slightly around the scar as if the bone had been broken and healed improperly.

With sudden realization, I felt tears sting my eyes. Thor cheered wildly as he congratulated the warriors. He wanted to join the next hunt. He only saw the success of a monster felled.

I only prayed that fate showed mercy on her abandoned baby.


	4. Stories

**Chapter Title:** Once Upon an Enlightened Time

**Chapter Rating**: K

**Summary:** There were happy moments in his life. This is one of them

**Notes:**

Life kicked my ass, royally, and I didn't realize that I had not reloaded the chapter after having to take it down for repairs. Here is chapter 4 again.

As always, I have no beta and, as always, I am typing between the hours of past midnight and crack of dawn. Comments and suggestions are welcome.

**Thanks:** Big thank you to** Lady of the Underground **for the support. This chapter is dedicated to you and is LONG overdue. I promised you a happy chapter and, while this is shorter then I wanted, I hope it is alright.

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**Once upon an Enlightened Time**

Today has been an interesting one. Once more, I was forced to vacate my current living arrangements because of Thor. He found, yet again, my base of operations on Midgard. It is not, per say, a base. It was more a small apartment where I could lick my wounds.

I am not so prideful that I can't admit to doing such. I know for a fact that Tony Stark has sulked into his lab after a good fight. Widow tends to disappear and the little Hawk finds a high nest to roost in.

We all, hero or not, have places that we bury ourselves in to repair our damaged bodies and plot our next move.

This last move, however, has brought a startling revelation.

I miss my room on Asgard.

Insane, I know. This would not be the first time I have been called this. The thought arrived so swiftly and with such strength that I could do naught but sink to the sidewalk and contemplate how the thought had even come to be.

I enjoyed my room, of course. I had reason to leave suddenly-being forced to flee. I left far to swiftly to even care about ether my room here or in Asgard.

Unless...

There had been a book in my little space in Midgard. The building had been condemned. I had taken over one of the many broken rooms of that gaudy structure. A little magic goes a long way to repair work, after all.

There had been a book. I remember. It had been resting ever so slightly on the edge of a table. It was a book of fairy tales and had to be the most ridiculous stories I had the chance to endure. A mermaid falling for a human and choosing death?

Those kinds of love do not exist. As I once learned from a spider, love is for children. They are pointless and have no place. Honestly, I should not have even bothered reading it.

I did, though. Like I should have expected, it pulled me back to my false life before I dropped from the edge of reality itself.

My room in Asgard was perfect.

Warmth. That was what I felt.

The sun streaming through the windows, covering most of the wall, heated my room beautifully.

Father—

Odin thought them impractical. He claimed windows too revealing for a bedchamber. To appease him, of course, I set heavy green curtains over them. I did have a tendency to keep them only slightly drawn. Oh, how it drove him wild on the off chance he would notice. I did so love to get a rile out of people.

I didn't understand at the time. Looking back, I can see how much of my life was hidden away. I was constantly watched when away from the palace. My room was switched on several occasions. This, at least, until I had learned a fairly complex locking spell that kept even him out for a few days. Mother had a tendency to close the curtains when she stopped by. Conversations were private. Oh, but I loved that room.

My bed ran at length under one of the large windows, against the wall. I didn't like, and still don't like, being open to attack. I had learned early on to guard my back lest Thor take a chance to pounce on it. The wall made a good rest, once pillows were pilled against it, and I could curl up under the warm light streaming through the half open shades. From here, I could see my door and, should the need arise, reach it in but a few long strides. My desk, ever a mess, lay against the wall to the right of the door. I confess, I still have no idea what happened to the matching chair. Spells had gone very much awry at that stage.

While my room was often off limits-even Thor had learned to avoid it unless he were to be invited-there were many times that Thor simply barged in. One such time, I had been reading.

Thor had barged in right when I had just gotten go the best part.

"Brother!" Thor had bellowed as he sprung onto my bed.

The bed bounced and shook as he settled beside me. I curled my legs up, resting the book on my knees.

"What are you reading, brother?" he asked, leaning over to paw at my book.

I shrugged, pulling away and twisting my body to hide the pages.

I should have known, of course, that Thor always got what he wanted. He had grown up well and strong. His shoulders had strengthened with his height and the beginnings of stubble formed on his chin.

I, on the other hand, looked ridiculous. I was thin, lanky, and clumsy. I don't know when it had happened but at some point when my voice began to change, my grace left me. Now, I fought to keep feet too large for me on the floor where they belonged while forcing long arms to stay at my side.

Worse, I had not sprouted a single hair that did not belong on the mop that claimed to be the hair on my head. Thor's golden lengths teased the sun and, for some strange reason, I thought the waves would mock me if they had voice.

Thor laughed, reaching once more for the book. "Come, now. I just want to see it!"

I attempted to spring off the bed but, alas, my limbs hate me and my legs tangled in the unmade sheets, throwing me to the floor.

Now, Thor was not a complete moron. He had also stolen the grace I had so gracelessly lost. In swift and simple moves, he had bounded from the bed grappled me into his lap, leaned against the bed and plucked the book from my hands.

I grumbled. He snorted.

"THIS is what you find entertaining?"

I hid my face as best I could. He quite successfully held me against his chest, locking me in place with a strong arm around my waist.

I sighed, leaning back to rest my head on his shoulder as he placed the book back against my drawn up knees.

The light had only just begun to fade, casting shadows into the room. I snapped my fingers to light the lamps and candles strewn about the flat surfaces.

"What is it about?" he asked softly, speaking to the top of my head.

When I said nothing he prodded my side saying, "Come, now. We never talk. You are my best friend and I miss you dearly, brother."

Sometimes, I look back on those moments and wonder what it would have been like. Could we have stayed as such were we both to have known the truth? As king, would he still call me his best friend?

I had leant against him at that point, carelessly thumbing pages.

"It is a love story," I said, "About two brothers torn away at birth only to meet once more at one brothers wedding."

I could feel him furrow is brow as he rested his head on mine. "That does not sound like a love story," he said.

I smile before adding, "it is when one brother finds himself in love with the other brothers woman."

"Really?" he drawled slowly. Thumbing back through the pages, he returned to the first chapter. "Who wrote this?"

Showing him the engraved cover I said "It is signed 'The Lady of the Underground' so I know not her true name."

"Is she a good writer?"

"Oh, yes! She is very a romantic. I have read many of her books. _Of Men and Magic _ and _A Widows Net._. Oh, and she has this epic story called _From Redemption To Hell_. I have not yet finished it."

Thor's chest rumbled deeply as he laughed, tugging the book high.

"Well you are reading this one now. If you would begin again, I would like to hear this story as well. Mayhap we can learn from it."

I smiled broadly as I settled back against his chest, his arm a protective weight against me.

_Once upon a time, in a far away kingdom, there lived a young King and his beautiful wife..._


End file.
